


The Edge of Your Smile

by Miaou Jones (miaoujones)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Timeline, Comfort Sex, Conversations, Developing Relationship, Discussion of Past Captivity, Emotional Arousal, Extended Flashback, First Time Together, Friends and More Than Friends, Hand Jobs, Hypersexuality, Inspired by Fanart, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Self-Identified Asexuality, Stress Relief, Sweet Talk, Undefined Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-08 17:39:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15935180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/pseuds/Miaou%20Jones
Summary: When Shiro is this amped up, when the edge is wound so thoroughly and tightly through him that it's even infecting his smile, no matter what the cause, there's only one thing to do for him.And Keith has become the one to do it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by **[this gorgeous artwork](https://yumikoyukiart.tumblr.com/post/169536911896/yumikoyukilay-me-to-my-grave-for-i-am-weak)** by [YumiKoyuki](https://yumikoyukiart.tumblr.com).   
>  Present scene set in Season 2; flashbacks take place across Seasons 1 and 2.

Shiro's smile does things to Keith. That smile makes him want to be a better person; it makes him feel that he _can_ be one. When Keith looks at the pureness of Shiro's smile, he feels better about himself and the whole world—the whole universe.

Shiro isn't smiling now as he faces the wall but moments ago he was. He smiled all around as they climbed out of their Lions at the end of the mission and said, "Great job out there today, everyone." 

No one else noticed the edge to his smile, the tension strung through it. Shiro's smile in the hangar was genuine and for all of them. But the edge: the edge of Shiro's smile was and is only for Keith.

The edge isn't sharp or glittering: it's a shadow, dark and dull. When it appears, the edge is sometimes stress, fueled by frustration and pressure. Other times, like from the thrill of today's hard-fought victory over Galra forces, it's an inflammation of adrenaline. 

When Shiro is this amped up, when the edge is wound so thoroughly and tightly through him that it's even infecting his smile, no matter what the cause, there's only one thing to do for him. And Keith has become the one to do it.

Shiro is already feeling it as Keith holds him from behind, facing the wall in one of the Castle's many corridors, a corridor no one should be walking down just now. He's rocking into Keith's hand as Keith fondles him through his clothes, and Keith can see enough of his face to tell that Shiro's eyes are closed as he starts to give himself over. Low, growly purrs are vibrating from his throat, and god Keith loves that—"You were so good today," he murmurs against Shiro's ear. A deep sigh rolls through Shiro, arching his cock against Keith's palm. Keith smiles and presses in closer. "Think you can be as good for me as you were for the team out there? Come on, baby." He molds his hand to the shape of Shiro's cock, feels it twitch against him. "Let's give you what you need, to give me what I need."

With a breathy moan, Shiro takes his left hand off the wall and reaches down for Keith's. He doesn't grab it, doesn't move it; he just rests his fingertips against the back of Keith's hand where he's touching Shiro over his clothes. Keith smiles again and squeezes indulgently.

Shiro's breath hitches and he pushes into Keith's hand more. He turns his head, not quite enough to look over his shoulder, eyes still closed; a flash of tongue as he moistens his parted lips. "Can you take me to your room?"

Warmth flushes through Keith. He loves it when Shiro needs him this much. "Yeah," Keith whispers to him, and holds Shiro closer when the whisper shivers though him. 

Shiro's hand falls from his as Keith lets go. They don't touch as they walk side by side to Keith's room.

  


* * *

  


The very first time they did this had been in his room, too. It was the same day he first noticed the shadowed edge in Shiro's smile. That had been in their early days on the Castle, after they were able to form Voltron but still felt overwhelmed by everything they had yet to learn. There was this one training deck simulation they hadn't been able to clear, day after day, no matter how many strategies they tried. They kept trying, of course. Trying and, for the countless time that particular day, failing.

Keith was exhausted; they all were. Shiro finally stood and called it a day. His mouth was a straight line—until he caught Keith looking at him, and flashed a grin.

Keith's brow furrowed. There was something wrong with Shiro's smile. There was an edge—no, not an edge, exactly, because it didn't frame the smile but went right through the middle of it: a tightness strung through Shiro's smile. 

But the tightness wasn't there in Shiro's voice when he said, "Good effort, team. Let's try again tomorrow." Nor was it in the smile he gave Keith before he went, and Keith almost wondered if he'd imagined it. 

He knew Shiro pretty well, though. Well enough to sense when something was off, whether he was smiling or not. Well enough not to follow right away, because he knew when Shiro needed some time to himself. So Keith gave that to him now, going to relax in the pool before heading back to his own quarters.

After he finished changing, he went to see Shiro. Another thing Keith knew about him was how Shiro tended to internalize things. So even though he wasn't one hundred percent sure about what he thought he'd seen back on the training deck, he knew Shiro was disappointed and frustrated, and Keith wanted to go talk to him before Shiro could convince himself that the team's failure was his own personal burden to bear.

When he got to Shiro's room, he pushed against the door and felt it give to his touch, so he entered without pause even as he knocked. "Hey, Shi—"

He stopped, feet stuck to the floor, the rest of Shiro's name stuck in his throat as his mouth hung open, eyes wide open and unable to look away:

Shiro was naked. On his back, head draped off the end of his bunk, hair still wet from a shower, sculpted muscles taut, body arched and glistening with a damp sheen of water droplets or maybe sweat. 

Naked except for the glove on his left hand, wrapped around his cock, which was flushed even darker than his body, the tip glistening with something that wasn't water or sweat; his prosthetic hand was out of sight, reaching beneath himself as his feet pressed against the mattress, giving him just enough lift to get his synthetic fingers—

Keith's gaze snapped to Shiro's face. 

Upside down, eyes wide open too, Shiro was looking at him. "Keith!" He let go of himself as he tumbled right side up in a controlled roll off the bed. "Oh my god, Keith, I'm—"

But Keith didn't hear whatever it was that Shiro was, because he was out the door, pulling it carefully shut behind him as he took off down the hallway towards his own quarters with long, rapid strides.

All he could think as he went, and maybe there were a lot of things that someone else could have been thinking in that moment—but all Keith could think was that he must really be ace, after all. He'd suspected for a while, though he hadn't given it enough thought to be sure. 

He felt pretty sure now. Because if seeing Shiro like that didn't make Keith want to fuck or get fucked, he didn't imagine anything in the universe would. 

When he got back to his room, he stood inside the door, leaning back against it. He hadn't run but his heart was pounding. Even when he took deep, measured breaths, his pulse rate stayed elevated. He hoped he could get himself to calm down by the time Shiro came to talk to him—because he knew Shiro would, when he was ready. He pushed himself off the door and turned to unlock it. He wasn't sure how close Shiro was, how long it would take him to—

"Keith?" The accompanying knock spiked Keith's heart rate for a beat. He took a breath, let it out slowly, and went to sit on his bed as Shiro said, "It's me. Can I—would it be okay if I come in?"

"It's open."

Shiro came in, closed the door, and stayed by it. "I'm sorry about that back there. I guess I don't understand how the locks work on the Castle yet." The grin he cracked didn't reach his eyes, which were full of concern. Keith opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but Shiro beat him to it: "Are you okay?"

Keith furrowed his brow. "Yeah."

Shiro studied him. "So... I didn't freak you out back there?"

"Oh." Keith's brow relaxed. It was something they'd talked about back before Shiro left on the Kerberos mission: how Keith had tried fooling around with another cadet and wasn't into it, how he didn't even like jacking himself off when he was alone. Shiro had told him it was okay, there was nothing wrong with him, and that was it; they'd talked about it so little, Keith hadn't thought Shiro would have remembered it, but apparently he did. Keith shook his head for emphasis as he said, "No, I wasn't freaked out."

A breath of relief slipped out of Shiro as he nodded. "It's just that, I mean I know that's not something you're interested in. So I thought it might have been upsetting."

"I'm fine," Keith said, meeting Shiro's eyes with an open, clear gaze so Shiro would know he was telling the truth. "Besides," he added, "shouldn't I be the one apologizing to you? For barging in on you like that..."

"It was my own fault." Shiro smiled, and normally Keith loved it when Shiro smiled, but he didn't love this smile. "Seriously, I really need to figure out how to lock my door here! Guess I'll go do that now." He smiled again and it wasn't exactly _forced_ , but there was a lot of effort in it. 

Like he was reluctant to go—but more reluctant to invade Keith's space.

 _Stay_ , Keith wanted to say, but he didn't think that would work. So instead he said, "Hey, before you go, can I ask you a question?"

Shiro's brow arched as his head dipped in a nod. "Sure."

"It's about _that_. About what you were doing." The easy arch of Shiro's brow fell as he realized what Keith was talking about. Keith kept looking at him, even though he felt his own gaze wanting to slide away. Shiro was always willing to talk to him about things no one else was, so he knew Shiro would answer these questions—but Keith had to actually articulate them. "You seemed really frustrated before. Almost angry. Not at us!" he added quickly. "But, I don't know—I thought you were angry with yourself. That's why I was coming to see you..." He trailed off, hoping Shiro could understand him even without all the right words spoken aloud.

"Oh." Shiro looked away and took a visible, audible breath. "Okay. I'm not sure where to start." He looked back at Keith, who brought his feet up onto the mattress and hugged his knees, settling in attentively. "I have this condition—it's not related to the Parkinson's," he said at Keith's sharp inhale, and Keith closed his mouth again and nodded. "It's something completely separate, called hypersexuality. It's different for everyone who deals with it. In my case, it means that I can't relax—from good feelings as well as bad ones—unless I." He hesitated. Keith kept looking at him, even though he sort of got the idea; he kept looking because he wanted Shiro to be able to say it, to feel okay about it. "Unless I come."

Shiro blushed then; they both did.

"So," Keith said through his blush, determined to keep the conversation open and even-toned, the way Shiro always did no matter what they were talking about. "Sex is the only thing that's effective in helping you relax?"

It had the desired effect; Shiro's expression smoothed out. "That's right."

"So," Keith said again, working through the information and implications. He wasn't sure about this, but: "It doesn't bring you pleasure?"

"No," Shiro said, and then amended, "Well, physical pleasure, yes. But there's no joy in it for me." 

Keith nodded, processing the new information. Shiro's thing had seemed like the opposite of asexuality at first, but now he wasn't so sure. 

Instead of pursuing that line of thought, he asked, "Has it always been like this for you?"

"Yeah. Sort of—it wasn't this bad at the Garrison, but I did need to jack off to calm down at times, whether I'd done something like crash a flight simulation or receive a commendation. It's been worse since." He paused. "Since Kerberos." 

_Oh,_ Keith thought. _Fuck_. It wasn't _Kerberos_ it had been worse since; it had been worse since Shiro's captivity. 

Keith hated everyone in that moment. He hated the Galra for what they'd done to Shiro. He hated the Garrison for not sending a search and rescue party after him, for abandoning him when he went missing. Most of all he hated himself for bringing it up, for making Shiro talk about it, making him relive it now.

Yeah, Keith hated pretty much everyone for a moment.

Everyone but Shiro. He didn't hate Shiro even for a moment; he never would.

"Okay," Keith said. And it was—or at least he wanted it to be. Shiro was clearly ashamed about it but Keith didn't want him to be. Shiro always made him feel okay about things, even weird, shameful ones. This wasn't really weird or shameful, Keith didn't think. He wished he could show Shiro how okay it was, because words aren't the most trustworthy things; he wished he could make it okay for Shiro. He wished he could _show_ Shiro... 

"Um, are you still...?" He refrained from glancing at Shiro's groin. Even if he wasn't hard, he had to be uncomfortable; he'd arrived at Keith's door only moments after Keith had, so there was no way he'd been able to _finish_. "I mean, do you want to? Here?" 

"Oh—Keith, no, it's." Shiro's mouth curved up on one side, and the half grin looked sincere. "That's all right. I do need to take care of it, but I'm more than fine to get back to my own quarters first."

That may have been true physically. But psychologically... if Shiro went now, he'd be going away ashamed. Keith's jaw set as he looked at Shiro. "Can you stay, though?" He knew it was important to hold eye contact, but he couldn't help dropping it as he said, "I want you to take care of yourself here," although he did manage to reconnect the gaze on, "please."

Shiro didn't answer right away and Keith was sure he was going to politely say no, but then Shiro took a breath and said, "Why do you want me to stay?"

The way Shiro was looking at him, calm and focused, Keith knew it was a real question, one meant to be answered. "I think." He paused, moistening his lip with a flick of his tongue to buy himself time while he thought. He wasn't sure if there was an answer that would satisfy Shiro, but since Shiro had asked, Keith would tell him the truth. "I think seeing you feel relaxed will make me feel relaxed." He hadn't realized how wound up he was himself until he said it, but as the words left his mouth he could feel it; Shiro wasn't the only one overcome by frustration at the afternoon's failure.

Yeah, he told Shiro the truth, but only part of it. He didn't tell Shiro that he'd always thought Shiro was objectively good-looking, but in that moment back at Shiro's room, Keith had found him _beautiful_. 

He held his breath for a heartbeat, until he saw the flicker in Shiro's gaze and he knew; he was already breathing again even as Shiro said, "Okay then."

And then he missed his next heartbeat as he realized exactly what Shiro was saying.

In the next moment he thought Shiro had changed his mind, because Shiro turned to the door—but he only checked the lock, testing the door to see if it held when pushed against. He flashed a grin over his shoulder. "Just double checking this time."

Keith's mouth felt dry, too dry for a light-hearted rejoinder or for any words at all, but he did grin back.

"So," Shiro said slowly. "I'll get undressed now." There was no inflection at the end, but it was clearly a question. 

"Okay." Keith wasn't sure that was an adequate response, but at least it was better than the silent nod he'd started with.

Shiro started to pull his shirt off and Keith didn't know whether he should watch or not. He had asked Shiro to stay, _wanted_ him to, and it wasn't like he wasn't going to watch Shiro jacking off— _oh my god, Shiro is going to jack off, in_ my _bed_...

Keith got up. "Here, you can have the bunk."

"Thanks." Shiro's smile was genuine; nervous, Keith thought, but real. 

When he was stripped down to nothing but the glove on his left hand, Shiro moved to the bed, lying back on it with his eyes closed. Keith wanted to tell him he was beautiful, but he didn't know if Shiro was pretending to be alone; he didn't want to ruin anything. Didn't want to ruin it _again_.

Wordlessly he looked at Shiro stretched out on his bed, eyes closed, breathing deliberate. His hand was curled loosely around his cock, already hard again—or maybe still hard—but he hadn't started really touching himself yet and Keith could read a hesitance. He was about to reassure Shiro that it was okay—when he realized what the hesitation was for.

He went over and rummaged in a drawer until he found the packet of lube. "Hey, Shiro—here." When Shiro opened his eyes, Keith tossed it to him. 

Puzzlement creased Shiro's brow. "I thought you didn't...?"

"I don't. But Lance doesn't know that." Keith grinned. "He was really excited about his 'discovery' when he gave that to me, and I didn't have the heart to tell him I don't need it." 

Shiro grinned too. "Thanks, Lance," he said as he opened the packet with a precise tear. He coated his cock with the viscous substance until it was slick and glistening again, then squeezed more lube onto his prosthetic fingertips. He hesitated and glanced towards Keith but didn't make eye contact. "Do you mind if I...?" He didn't finish the sentence but bent his knees, feet planted apart, and tilted his hips upwards. "I mean, will it bother you—"

"Yeah," Keith said through the heat of his new blush as he figured out where Shiro meant those fingers to go. "I mean, no—I don't mind, it won't freak me out or anything."

"Okay." Shiro took a long, deep, slow breath as he reached between his legs with both hands, one closing in a fist around his cock as he started to stroke himself, extended fingers of the other disappearing from Keith's line of sight. 

After a couple of easy, almost exploratory strokes that made Keith catch his lower lip between his teeth, the muscles of Shiro's bicep and forearm contracted as he set his grip and started to move his fingertips on his cock in earnest. His other shoulder hitched and his belly tautened as he arched his hips, and Keith guessed his prosthetic fingers were inside him now.

Keith tried not to stare but he couldn't help himself. He dared to look at Shiro's face and saw that Shiro was aware of his gaze, not lost in his own touch as Keith had expected. Keith looked away quickly. "Keith," Shiro said quietly, breathlessly. "It's okay if you don't want to stay." 

The words sank into Keith, sank his heart, but before he could say anything, Shiro said, "It's okay if you do want to stay, too. If you stay, you can—I don't mind you looking. And I don't mind if you want to ask me anything."

Shiro was still Shiro, Keith thought as he looked at Shiro there, laid out naked before him, still offering his knowledge and support and guidance. He looked at Shiro and his heart felt full but unsunken. 

He let himself look. He even let himself shift his position so he could see Shiro's hole, where now three of his fingers were pushing in and out of himself in counterpoint rhythm with the fist around his cock. It took skill to keep up the synchronized but separate rhythms, Keith thought; but that wasn't his main thought as he watched.

"Is that what you like?" he asked, gesturing towards the prosthetic hand. "Objects, I mean?" Porn wasn't really his thing, but he'd seen enough of it at the Garrison to know object insertion was a thing.

"No. But I don't experience sensation the same way with that hand as I do with my natural one, and this way I can pretend it's someone else doing it." His lashes fluttered down as he twisted his prosthetic wrist, making himself gasp and arch. When he got his breath back, he said, "That's why I wear the glove, too. I wouldn't use my own hand on myself if I didn't have to." He opened his eyes to spare Keith a grin even as he sighed at the sensations rippling through him.

"Oh." Heat flushed Keith's face once more and he knew what he was about to say, but he couldn't stop himself—no, he chose not to stop himself. "In that case, I could—"

"I didn't say that to get you to offer, Keith."

"I know." Keith swallowed and went up to the bed. Shiro had stopped moving his hands and Keith knew he was about to get up. But the edge was still there, not just in the smile Shiro was trying to give him but everywhere, wound all through his body, stringing him tight. "I know," Keith said again, "but let me."

Keith's hand hovered without touching.

They looked at each other. 

After a moment, Shiro nodded. 

He moved over to make room when Keith sat next to him. "Wait," he said when Keith started to reach for his cock. "Here." Shiro tugged the glove off with his teeth and let it fall onto his chest, then picked it up and held it out to Keith. "I know it won't fit exactly right, but this way you won't have to touch it with your bare hand."

Keith didn't smile back, refused to acknowledge Shiro's grin, didn't take the glove. "I don't mind touching you." The point of him doing this was to give Shiro the human touch he needed, after all. "I mean, I'm not really interested in sex for myself," he said, taking a guess at what Shiro was thinking, "but I'm not sex repulsed." He could see Shiro considering his words and added simply, "I really want to do this." 

He held the gaze as Shiro studied him in it, until Shiro dropped the glove and said, "All right." 

Keith sat next to him and picked up the opened lube packet. He squeezed some of what was left in it onto his own fingers and reached for Shiro's cock, then only hovered. He wanted to say something before Shiro misread his hesitation and tried to tell him again that he didn't have to do this, and ended up saying only, "Um." 

Shiro must have sensed he was trying to say more because he gave Keith space to think then. Keith looked at his own hand. Looked at the angle of it, juxtaposed to the jut of Shiro's cock. He sighed. He felt stupid. 

But he wasn't going to feel less stupid if he just kept sitting there, so he shifted and tried to look at Shiro and ended up looking at the wall as he said, "I don't know how."

"Keith..."

The way Shiro said his name, the way Shiro always said his name in a way that stopped Keith from feeling stupid no matter how stupid he was being, made Keith want to put his face in his hands right then. Not to look away from Shiro, but just to listen to the way Shiro said his name.

Instead he took in a breath like he was sighing in reverse and met Shiro's gaze. "I mean, I know how to do it to myself. But." He didn't want to bite his lip but didn't know what else to do with his mouth. It ended up slanting down on one side. He took another deliberate breath. "I'm not sure about the angle like this." 

He tried to will the heat he felt to stop creeping up the back of his neck before it reached his face, and partially succeeded as the blush stopped just along the underside of his jaw.

"Ah." Shiro pushed himself up to a sitting position and Keith, out of words to get Shiro to stay, just looked at him. Rather than getting up, though, Shiro only scootched himself forward. His brow rose into a gentle arch as he looked at Keith. "Would it be better if you're behind me?"

"Yeah." Keith ignored the blush as it crawled up over his jawline. He shifted to sit with his legs on either side of Shiro, then coaxed Shiro to lie back against him.

Some of the lube he'd applied to his fingers got wiped off in the process, smeared uselessly on the bedclothes. Keith rubbed the pad of his thumb against his middle and forefingers as he looked over Shiro's shoulder at his lap, gliding through the slick that had stayed on his own fingertips as he assessed the sheen still coating Shiro's cock. 

"Keith."

Keith dropped his forehead to Shiro's shoulder, his arms going around him blindly. "Shiro, if you ask me one more time if I'm sure—" 

Low, throaty laughter cut him off. Shiro's hand touched the back of Keith's where it rested against his chest. "No, I was just going to ask if you want me to help you start."

Oh. Keith made himself lift his head instead of pushing it against Shiro more at that. "Yeah, okay."

He let Shiro guide his hand down, felt Shiro's fingers curl lightly over his as he stroked himself from base to tip with Keith's hand, back down half way, all the way up again, closing in a fist over his cock head, opening to glide on fingertips down the shaft. 

As Shiro set up the rhythm in long, fluid strokes, Keith sketched spiraling circles on Shiro's skin with his free hand, letting Shiro guide him until he thought he had Shiro's rhythm himself. He flexed his fingers beneath Shiro's on an upstroke. "Let go." He thought he was speaking normally, but found himself whispering confidentially against Shiro's ear. "Let go, Shiro; I've got you."

A deep sigh shivered through Shiro as he gave the rhythm over to Keith. He eased himself back even more against Keith, and Keith couldn't help feeling it was like Shiro was taking him at his word, trusting him to make it okay for Shiro to let go; trusting him to take Shiro where he needed to go.

Trapped between them, Keith's cock was still soft, but he felt his thoughts about Shiro and trust settle low in his belly, felt them coalesce into a pleasant, heavy heat that thrummed and uncurled and stretched out inside him as he jacked Shiro off, quickening the pace as Shiro arched and made sounds Keith never would have imagined, as he whimpered and _mewled_. 

He kept stroking Shiro's cock as the tension threaded through him coiled tighter and tighter to the breaking point—and then instead of breaking, Shiro opened up with a sharp inhalation that melted into a sustained, breathy moan, spilling out of himself, coming in Keith's arms and over his fingers.

Shiro let himself lie quietly for a moment, his diaphragm rising and falling with full breaths as he came down. Then he opened his eyes and pushed himself up, twisting to look at Keith. "Okay?"

Keith's smile felt strangely shy to him, but he didn't hide it. "Yeah. You?"

Shiro took a deeper breath and let it out in a deliberate sigh. "Yeah." He smiled. "Thank you, Keith."

Keith nodded. "Any time."

Shiro laughed, his laughter as mellow as his movements, as relaxed as the lines of his body. He got up and started to dress, massaging his come into his skin instead of wiping it off. "Think I'll go clean up before dinner. See you there." He smiled, open and easy.

Keith smiled too. "See you, Shiro."


	2. Chapter 2

Shiro may have laughed about the "any time," but Keith had been serious. He didn't know if Shiro had meant for it to be a one time thing but he started actively looking for the edge in Shiro's smile anyhow. 

Two days later they finally beat that training sim and everyone—including Shiro—was pretty excited about it. 

Keith took a quick shower before he went and knocked on Shiro's door. This time he waited until Shiro came and opened it. 

He could tell by the way Shiro was looking at him that he knew why Keith had come. As Keith stood there he didn't know how Shiro was going to play it, and told himself for the hundredth time that he was prepared to go away if that was what Shiro wanted.

"Keith." In a voice as soft as the smile he offered then, Shiro said, "Are you here to help me?"

Those words filled Keith like a deep, calming breath. He didn't know how Shiro could smile so softly when he was so strung through with edge like that. He couldn't smile at all himself, but he did nod. "If that's okay with you."

"Is it okay with _you_?"

 _I'm here, aren't I?_ But that wasn't the sort of answer Shiro would accept, so Keith met his gaze as evenly as he could and said simply, "Yeah."

"Okay then." Shiro stepped aside to let him in. 

Keith was only going to jack him off, so Shiro didn't have to be fully undressed for this. But he'd been naked when Keith had walked in on him that time and Keith guessed that was how he liked to do it for himself, so that's how Keith was going to do it for him too.

 _Undress for me_ didn't feel right, so when Shiro turned to him after locking the door, Keith said, "Could I undress you?"

Keith didn't know why that made Shiro smile the way it did, but the warmth in that small smile made Keith's fingers curl, made his toes curl too. Shiro's lashes swept down and up in a soft blink as he nodded.

"Okay." Keith stepped closer, eyes on his fingers as he reached for Shiro, who didn't say anything about the way Keith fumbled with the fastenings, only putting his own hand gently over Keith's until Keith steadied under the touch. 

Shiro's cock was already hard by the time Keith opened Shiro's fly, and may have been that way even before Keith knocked on the door. He held his lip between his teeth as he looked at it. In order to get Shiro's pants off, he was going to have to kneel...

"Here, I've got this." Shiro hooked his thumbs inside his waistband and pushed it down. 

Keith stepped back to let Shiro finish undressing—but not far enough, because as he turned towards the bed when Shiro was done, his hand accidentally knocked against Shiro's cock. 

A sharp inhale broke the pattern of Shiro's breathing; he caught his breath, held it for a heartbeat, pushed it out.

Keith bit his lip. "Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes," Shiro said.

His tone was even and quiet, and somehow that made his response worse to Keith. Keith had meant just now, but Shiro was clearly answering in general—and in such a way that he seemed to think hurting was something to accept for himself.

Keith did not want to accept that for Shiro. Determination set into the line of his mouth. "I'm gonna make it better for you."

"Keith..." 

Keith didn't know how to read the way Shiro's expression softened.

Then Shiro let himself smile. He raised his hand to run his fingers through his hair, pushing the forelock back for a moment before gravity drew it back towards his face. "Do you want to lie down with me?"

Keith nodded. He followed Shiro to the bed, then climbed on first so Shiro could lie back against him. Like before, he let Shiro take his hand and guide him, showing Keith how he liked to be touched, not just his cock but his throat, his chest, his torso. He didn't linger on his own scars so Keith didn't either, though his fingertips were curious.

"Please," Shiro breathed more than said as he finally curled their hands around his cock. 

"Yeah." 

Shiro was already so close to the edge, his heartbeat pounding when Keith brushed over his pulse points, his body taut and trembling under Keith's hands, his cock radiating heat and throbbing more with each stroke; he was already so close it didn't take much for Keith to bring him to full arousal; not much more to send him beyond to full release. 

Shiro's jaw went slack and his lashes fluttered wildly as his eyes fell shut. The arch of his body eased, vibrations slowing as the thick spurts of come did, until he was only resting in Keith's arms.

When Shiro was breathing normally again, Keith said, "I guess I'll go now."

"I'll walk you out." 

It was only a few steps across the room, but for some reason it made Keith smile. 

At the door Shiro thanked him again, and then added, "You don't have to do this every time I get too amped up, you know."

"I know," Keith said, and he did. "But I want to. If you'll let me." Shiro considered him, undecided and weighing it in his mind, so Keith tried to tip the balance in his favor: "I sleep better, knowing you're okay." 

He didn't say anything about how poorly he'd slept when Shiro was gone, but the way Shiro was looking at him now, Keith thought he might understand even without words. 

Shiro looked at him like that a moment longer. Then his gaze slid down as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Keith's. "Okay," he murmured.

Keith thought maybe Shiro meant more than that he was going to let Keith keep helping him out; he thought maybe it meant that Shiro was okay and he wanted Keith to be too. He cupped Shiro's nape. "Okay."

 

Whatever else Shiro might have meant with that one soft word, he did mean it was okay with him for Keith to keep coming to him. There was no regularity to their—Keith didn't know what to call what they were doing. After giving it some thought, he settled on "release sessions." 

There was no regularity to their release sessions, but they were fighting an intergalactic war and every day there was no shortage of adrenaline, no shortage of pressure and stress and tension.

And there was no shortage of learning opportunities. Even though Keith didn't get physical gratification himself from what they were doing, he had always been an immersed and curious student when something caught his attention—and Shiro had his full attention. Keith became versed in handling different angles, and Shiro taught him different techniques and tricks. 

He encouraged Keith to experiment and explore too, when Keith expressed an interest in trying out new things on him. Some things worked and some didn't; no matter what, Shiro always said after that everything was okay. Keith believed him—and anyhow, no matter what, he always got Shiro _there_ in the end.

Then one time after a spectacular rescue mission, Keith knew even before they started that it was going to be a challenge this time. He'd never seen Shiro so amped up, like his veins were flowing with nothing but pure adrenaline. 

After a while, with both of them touching him inside and out, pushing him close and closer to orgasm but unable to get there, the edge overshadowed Shiro's expression, pushing pleasure towards something else. "Keith—let's stop, okay?" Shiro took a ragged breath. "It's just me; it doesn't always happen for me."

He sounded exhausted and miserable, his face partly obscured by the strands of his forelock that were stuck to his skin with damp exertion. Keith quieted his own hand but didn't take it off of Shiro's cock, still so impossibly hard that Keith ached just looking at it. 

With his free hand, he brushed the hair out of Shiro's face so he could look into his eyes. The desperation and resignation he found there made Keith feel desperate, too; desperate and determined. "Let me try a little more. I just want to make it good for you, baby."

A deep moan shuddered through Shiro's body and up through his throat as he arched, come spurting convulsively over Keith's fingers, splashing across his own belly.

Shiro sat up then, his face in his hands. 

That made Keith want to apologize even as he was trying to catch up with what had just happened— _oh_. "Was that..." He wasn't sure, but he couldn't think of any other variable. "Because I called you 'baby'?" He hadn't meant to call Shiro that, it had just come out on its own...

With a sigh, Shiro turned his head farther from Keith as he nodded. 

Keith wasn't sure he understood, but he knew he needed to. He hazarded a guess: "Do you think I shouldn't call you that just because you're older and bigger than me?"

Shiro shifted uncomfortably, straightening but not meeting Keith's eyes. "I don't know." 

So that was part of it, Keith thought. But not all of it. "Did you used to get called that?" He didn't say the person's name aloud but he thought maybe the nickname was particular to that other person, who was maybe the only one Shiro wanted calling him that. But when Shiro shook his head now, Keith believed him. He thought some more, looking at Shiro, who didn't meet his considering gaze but didn't move to avoid it, before asking, softly, "Did you want him to?" 

Shiro's gaze came to him wordlessly, and Keith had his answer.

"It's okay, baby." He held Shiro in his gaze. "I can do that for you."

 

Shiro didn't say so but when Keith started thinking about it afterwards, it wasn't hard to figure out that Shiro was so used to being the one taking care of everyone and everything, he had a hard time letting anyone take care of him. It was easy to extrapolate from that, that he'd put sweetness away from himself, disallowed himself the possibility of being given any such thing even for a moment. And Keith had undone that with one word.

He kept undoing it, kept undoing Shiro with sweet talk. After the first "baby," Shiro not only started to accept it, he got so into it that one time he said, "You probably don't have to touch me from now on. The words are enough." He smiled languidly, arm curved so his hand could rest on top of his head as he held back his forelock. 

Although he'd framed it like a joke, Keith thought there was something serious in it. He didn't really believe Shiro could come just from being sweet talked and he said so. 

Shiro's brow arched. "Is that a challenge?"

Keith hadn't meant it that way, but—"Yeah, I guess it is."

"Then I accept." As he held out his hand to shake on it, Shiro's hair slipped from his fingers to flop forward again.

Keith took his hand. "That means no touching yourself, either." 

"Fair enough." 

So the next time, Keith sat next to him on the bed, doing nothing but calling him baby, encouraging him in low, soft tones and telling Shiro how he was going to take care of him just like this, _yes baby, come on, let yourself feel it_... 

To his surprise, Shiro got close. Much closer than Keith had imagined he could without contact.

Shiro got _so close_ ; close but not close enough, not all the way _there_ ; just close enough that, "Please, oh~ please. I need you, Keith, need you to fucking _touch me_ ," desperate inhales colliding with Shiro's sighs so his breathing stuttered thickly, "please, Keith, oh fuck _please~_ " until Keith finally wrapped around Shiro's cock to coax the liquefied tension out of him.

It was Keith's victory. But as he looked at Shiro, at the way Shiro wasn't looking at him, he didn't feel like he'd won anything. 

The sense that there'd been something honest in what Shiro had said wouldn't leave Keith alone. He dug into it as they were lying there and came up with, "Do you really not want me to touch you anymore?" 

Shiro looked so unhappy at that, it made Keith unhappy. Especially because he thought he was the cause of Shiro's unhappiness. He didn't know what to do about it, though. He'd thought Shiro was okay with Keith helping him like this; Shiro had _said_ it was okay, and Shiro had never lied to him, ever... although he had, once, hidden something important from him... 

Finally Shiro said, "I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

And there it was. "Touching you doesn't make me uncomfortable."

Shiro puffed out a breath of mirthless laughter. "You aren't just touching me, though. You're—you're giving me hand jobs. Jacking me off until I come. It's sexual," he said, and even though he didn't say the rest, Keith heard it anyhow: _And you don't like sex_.

"I like doing this." Keith held Shiro's gaze. "I like the way it makes you feel." 

Shiro was quiet for so long, Keith knew he wasn't going to respond. What kind of response could he make to that anyhow? He snorted at himself, saw the flicker in Shiro's expression, and realized Shiro had misread the snort. "I really do like it, in my own way," he said quietly. "Maybe I don't get off on it the way you do, but. I don't know, I feel like I'm kind of getting off on it in my own way." 

Shiro still wasn't saying anything, and Keith knew he wasn't explaining himself clearly. It was hard to explain, even to himself.

Maybe no explanation was going to be good enough, though. He swallowed a sigh. "Hey, Shiro. We can stop. I don't want to do this anymore if you really hate it that much."

Shiro looked over at him. "I don't hate you, Keith."

That's not what Keith had said—although, when he thought about how he felt, maybe that wasn't a bad reading... He shook off that train of thought and focused on Shiro's words. "Then, you don't want me to stop?" He was pushing it, the way he phrased it; he wished too late he hadn't said it like that.

But Shiro smiled. "I don't want you to stop. If you really want to keep on..." His smile lingered as his words trailed off, then that faded too as he kept looking at Keith. "I think I just want to understand more what it is that you're getting out of this."

Keith traced the whorls of hair at the back of his own neck, then dropped his hand. He didn't know if he could put it into words, exactly, but Shiro was looking at him so patiently he had to try, _wanted_ to try. "I get this feeling when I'm with you. When we're doing this—when I'm jacking you off. It's like a thrumming?" 

He couldn't hold the gaze and looked down at his hands where they were folded in his lap. "Just this heavy, pleasant, thrumming feeling, seeing you like that. Knowing I'm the one amping you up even more than you already are." He couldn't do anything about the blush he felt set in; he could only push on. "Knowing that I'm the one calming you down. Knowing I'm the one making you feel good. I don't get turned on the way you do? But..." He sighed, wishing he could explain it better. "But I get turned on inside, I guess."

"That's the thrumming?"

Keith looked at Shiro: his expression was so earnest as he listened, really trying to understand, that Keith let himself smile, just a little. It didn't make sense and he knew it, but Shiro was trying to make sense of it. Keith just wanted to lie down with him wordlessly for a while, but he owed it to Shiro to keep going with words.

"Yeah. So, I don't come or anything. Or, I kind of feel like maybe I do sometimes? But in reverse. I don't ejaculate—nothing comes out; my body just reabsorbs the thrumming."

It was nonsense. Not what he experiences, which had happened enough times that Keith knew it was real; but the words were nonsense. Shiro was nodding thoughtfully anyhow, like he was really trying to make sense of Keith's nonsense, like he would be able to, if he tried hard enough.

"So... you really like this." 

Maybe that was all the sense that mattered. Keith grinned. "Yeah. I really do."

"You told me one of your secrets." Shiro moved to sit right next to him, leaning back against the wall too (and it would only be later, when Keith replayed it in his mind, that he would realize Shiro had said "one of," like he knew Keith had other secrets; like he would wait as long as Keith needed him to before Keith was ready to tell him the others, like it would be okay if Keith was never ready).

Shiro tipped his face up towards the ceiling and so did Keith, wishing they were looking at the sky the way they used to, a million years and so many millions of miles ago back on Earth. "So I'll tell you one of mine." Shiro's arm moved just enough to nudge Keith's, but when Keith looked at him, Shiro was still looking up. "I do too."

Keith snorted and punched his arm lightly. "That's not a secret."

Shiro made a noncommittal, agreeable sound and kept looking up at the not-sky, and after a moment Keith did too.

 

Everything was okay and more than okay for a while after that, and Shiro let himself get into the sweet talking even more. 

It turned out that a specific kind of sweet talk had a powerful effect on him. After a particularly long and grueling battle, Allura greeted him as he exited his Lion and told him how absolutely worthy he was of being the Black Lion's Paladin. She beamed at him. "My father, if he were still alive, would surely have admired the brilliance of your tactics today."

"Oh, that's high praise, indeed!" Coran chimed in.

Exhausted as he was from the hours long fight, the corner of Shiro's mouth twitched up at that. 

So did his cock, Keith noticed.

He tried it himself in Shiro's room later, pushing Shiro to a fervent orgasm with a few murmured words about how good he had been today, how amazing he and Black had been out there, just how _good_ Shiro was.

Keith wasn't really used to praise—not receiving it, except from Shiro of course, and certainly not giving it. So he wasn't good at it, but he awkwardly did his best, giving Shiro tons of praise after that. He loved the way all the talk so completely and thoroughly undid Shiro every time, making him open up and fall apart in just the best way. 

Most especially Keith loved their quiet moments afterwards, as Shiro would slowly gather himself together again. He let Keith take him apart all the time now; someday maybe he would let Keith be the one to put him back together too.

 

There were times, though, when Shiro couldn't fall apart no matter how much sweet talk and praise and touching Keith gave him; he hadn't been lying when he'd told Keith he couldn't always come. This was one of those times and so, as he had with the sweetness and with the praise, Keith decided it was the right time to take a chance with something new.

On another occasion he'd shyly offered to use his mouth on Shiro's cock, but Shiro had turned him down. "I like what you're already doing with your mouth too much to give it up." 

It should have been a horribly embarrassing thing to say, and as Shiro's lashes had swept down in a dropped gaze, he'd had the grace to blush, a light dusting of color across his cheeks; he'd blushed but he'd been smiling.

Keith had been smiling more.

He'd taken Shiro at his word and traded in the idea of blowing him for what he was about to try now. He'd been practicing this but saying it to himself, even to himself in a mirror, was different from saying it to Shiro. He took a measured breath, then leaned down and in, until his mouth was right next to Shiro's ear, close enough that Shiro would hear him no matter how low Keith had to drop his voice to hide the tremble:

"Come on, _come slut_ —you know you want this."

Shiro's breath did hitch, the way Keith had hoped it might—but instead of arching, Shiro went flat. He stopped touching himself and sat up, the flashes of surprise and confusion and a quiet _hurt_ already fading.

The thrumming gone, Keith sat up too. "Hey, I didn't mean it, Shiro." His brow furrowed as he looked at Shiro's back, resisting how much he wanted to reach out for his shoulder. "That's not." He swallowed. "That's not how I see what we do. That's not how I see you. I just thought you might like it..." 

He felt so stupid. Why hadn't he talked to Shiro first, instead of just doing it? He closed his hand in on itself before it could move towards Shiro. He didn't know if Shiro wanted him there at all right now, let alone touching him. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to..." A sigh, heavy in his mouth, fell from him heavier than air. "Sorry, Shiro." 

Shiro looked over his shoulder at Keith, his gaze full of familiar patience. "It's okay."

Keith shook his head, brow still knit. "No, it's not." He wanted to apologize more but that wasn't going to help Shiro. "And you're not." He swallowed hard. "You're not that. You're pure..."

His brow finally unfurrowed, going the other way into a confused arch when Shiro laughed. "I'm definitely not that, either!"

Keith didn't feel even a hint of a smile. _Yes, you are_. He knew Shiro wouldn't accept that, though. "Did..." He trailed off, not sure if it was okay to ask about this, not sure how to even ask. But he'd already messed up once by not talking to Shiro, and the release session was already ruined. He swallowed. "Did _they_ used to call you stuff like that?" If it was this hard for him to say, it must be even harder for Shiro to talk about. But if Shiro could tell him even a little, Keith felt like he would be able to understand Shiro that much more, and be able to give him that much more of what he needed.

And maybe to understand himself more as well.

"Who—oh. No." Shiro shook his head. "I don't think they knew about my condition. No matter how much the need built up in me, I never got myself off openly in front of anyone, not even other prisoners. Or maybe they did know; they could have been watching on video surveillance, I guess. But if they did, they never said anything. I don't think it was an intended effect of the drugs they gave us."

Keith had just been feeling relief over the disconfirmation of his deep dark fear that Shiro had been sexually abused in captivity—but now a new wave of anxiety washed over him. "Wait, what? What drugs?"

"Adrenaline boosters, I think. They administered it to all the arena fighters. I don't think it was meant to be an aphrodisiac; it just had that effect on human biochemistry. Or maybe just on me." Shiro grinned ruefully. "For me, the drugs seemed to intensify the already pretty intense connection between adrenaline and the way my brain interprets hormonal signals. But that wasn't the Galra's intent."

"So..." Keith didn't want to make Shiro keep talking about this, but he wanted to be sure he understood. "They didn't. Use you? Or—" 

Mercifully, Shiro didn't make Keith try to finish that sentence. "No. They never touched me like that. If they were even aware of it, I think they were mostly just indifferent to my state."

Keith nodded. He felt too overwhelmed even to hate the Galra right now. All he wanted to do was just lie here for a while. Shiro probably wouldn't want to do that, but—

Before he could suggest anything, Shiro yawned without covering his mouth. "Ah, excuse me."

Keith managed half a grin. "Tired?"

"Exhausted." Shiro's tone was agreeable, but when Keith looked he could see the shadows of exhaustion deepening in Shiro's eyes. Shiro pushed himself up to climb off the bed. "I think I'll head back to my quarters and try to get some sleep.

Keith usually stretched out when Shiro got up, but this time he held his position. "Will you really be able to sleep?" Shiro flashed him a grin and started to open his mouth, but Keith narrowed his gaze and said, "Don't lie to me."

"I." Shiro's gaze flickered. He sighed. "It won't be easy," he admitted.

Keith cocked his head as he looked up at Shiro. "Can I try?"

He held Shiro's gaze until Shiro said, "Okay." 

"Good," Keith said. "That's good." He took a chance as Shiro came back and settled himself on the bed again. "That's my baby." 

Something small and pleased made its way into Shiro's sigh. He looked at Keith looking at him, listened intently as Keith told him how good he was, how he'd protected everyone today, how everyone on an entire planet was saved because of Voltron—because of Shiro, as the head of Voltron. He reached for Shiro and took him in hand. "And me, too. No one could ever make me feel as safe as you do, Shiro," he said, but he didn't say that he hoped he made Shiro feel safe too, as he stroked Shiro's cock, curled his fingers around it and brought Shiro over the edge.

He touched his come-slicked fingertips to Shiro's lips, felt a soft, wet flick, withdrew his hand and smiled as Shiro licked the come from his own lips with lazy flashes of his tongue. Shiro's lips stayed parted as his breathing slowed and he drifted into restful slumber.

That was the first time they slept together. It didn't become a regular thing, just every now and then. Keith wouldn't mind if Shiro slept with him more but he didn't offer, didn't ask.


	3. Chapter 3

"You can ask about them, you know," Shiro said a few days later. The two of them were in one of the common rooms, post-training. When Keith's brow quirked up, Shiro said, "The Galra."

Keith swallowed. "Oh."

Shiro turned his gaze back to the tablet he was using to study the results of the day's strategy training session. "You don't have to. But if there are things you want to know, I don't mind talking to you about them."

 _Things you want to know_. They were alone in the common room; Shiro was addressing only him. Not things the Paladins might want to know about their main enemy but things Keith specifically might want to know.

The common room wouldn't necessarily stay empty for long. "I do have questions." Keith glanced at Shiro as Shiro looked up at him. "But, not here..."

Shiro nodded. "My room?"

"Okay."

Shiro tucked the tablet away and they walked to his room. They crossed paths with Pidge and Hunk, who were off to make some tech upgrades that would have been above Keith's comprehension even if he'd had the ability to focus on what they were saying, and moments later encountered Lance on his way to spend some quality time with Kaltenecker. Even though none of the others were headed to the common room, Keith felt a wave of relief that the two of them were going to Shiro's.

When they got there, Keith folded himself onto the bed while Shiro stretched out on the floor. "So, what can I tell you?" Encouragement lingered along the curve of Shiro's mouth.

"Uh, well..." He had said Keith could ask him anything, and Keith had to admit to himself that he really wanted to know this. Wanted to know, to the point that it felt like need; he needed to know everything he could about Shiro. "I was just wondering—did you used to get off to it, when the Galra praised you?"

After a beat, Shiro quietly said, "No." He took a breath and said, even more quietly, "They never praised me."

"But—" Keith knew his surprise was showing and didn't bother trying to disguise it. "You were their Champion, though...?"

Shiro shook his head. "I think they only built me up like that to make their satisfaction at my inevitable fall greater. To give them more pleasure when I finally lost." He didn't mean the grin he flashed then and he must have known it, because he let it fade just as quickly as he'd pulled it up. "When I failed to lose, they gave me this." He held up his prosthetic arm.

Keith looked at the Galra tech arm. He'd seen the scars around where it attached to Shiro's flesh; he'd felt those scars. He felt shaky inside, imagining—trying to imagine, because he couldn't, not really, the horrors that Shiro had gone through at the hands of the Galra.

Eyes closed now, Shiro stopped talking. He was in darkness, and Keith didn't want to leave him there. Wouldn't leave him there alone.

He got off the bed and went over to sit next to Shiro on the floor. He said Shiro's name quietly so Shiro would know he was there; he said it again, clearly, so Shiro would know it was him. He rested his hand on Shiro's shoulder, and when Shiro didn't shrug him off or shy away, when he inclined into the touch, Keith leaned against him, hoping Shiro could hear the _I'm with you_ even without words; knowing he did when Shiro leaned into him too.

 

For a while, with everything that was going on—fighting an interstellar war, forming a psychic bond with a sentient robotic lion, building connections with aliens, and with other humans too, for that matter—Keith forgot about Shiro's illness.

Most of the time Shiro didn't like to talk about his Spinal Muscular Atrophy and Keith was usually okay with that. But he did want to talk with Shiro about some things, even ones he knew Shiro wouldn't want to—especially those. Like the things Shiro had said when they were stranded on that dead moon after fighting Zarkon; things that had been about more than the wound Zarkon's witch had inflicted on him.

Keith had been too consumed with keeping them both alive at the time to let himself get beneath the surface of what Shiro was saying. But since they'd made it back to the Castle safely, he'd taken that conversation apart and turned the pieces over in his mind, and he'd come to the conclusion that Shiro had been talking about more than the SMA too.

So a few hours after Shiro got out of the healing pod, Keith went to see him in his quarters. It was probably too soon after his recovery for this, but somehow Keith couldn't help feeling that it was almost too late. He should've heard what Shiro had been saying back on that moon, he should've talked to Shiro about it then whether Shiro wanted to or not.

Shiro looked fine when he opened the door, but as soon as Keith was inside he closed his eyes. "Can you. Please." Humiliation and discomfort weighted his voice, colored his expression. Behind him, Keith noticed the bedclothes in a chaos of tossed and turned disarray.

Keith swallowed his surprised _oh_. He didn't know why he hadn't anticipated this, but he hadn't; he'd only come to talk—but it wasn't like he would ever say no, and especially not when Shiro said please. "Yeah, of course."

Shiro returned to the bunk, trying to smooth out the bedclothes before crawling under them. Keith climbed in with him. "It's okay." He pushed the sheets down to expose Shiro, so he could look at his cock as he started caressing it with his thumb and forefinger; a deep sigh rolled through Shiro at the first touch, relief already threading into his breath.

Keith focused on Shiro's cock, his face. They could talk after—

Or, he realized, they could talk now—when Shiro didn't have the presence of mind to dissemble or deflect.

As Shiro's cock started to respond to Keith's fingers, as his breathing started to shift to arousal, Keith said, "You're a good Paladin, Shiro." Shiro sighed more deeply at that, and Keith tapped his fingertips lightly along Shiro's shaft as he said, "You're the Black Lion's Paladin."

Shiro's breath closed up at that, so Keith curled his fingers around Shiro's cock in a gentle squeeze, stroking up and twisting his wrist to flick the pad of his thumb over Shiro's cockhead, slick with precome. Shiro's hips bucked and Keith moved to his scrotum at that, tugging the skin down and away so Shiro's eyelids fell shut as his mouth opened with a soft moan.

"Not Zarkon," Keith said, focused intently on Shiro's face. "Not me. You." He shifted his angle on Shiro's cock, stroking up and away. "Black has chosen _you_. You're the one." He could see Shiro's muscles contracting, he could feel the twitch and throb of Shiro's cock, so close to release.

Keith let go of him.

Shiro's breath sucked in hard; his human hand opened, fingers splaying, closing on nothing but air. His whole body vibrated with a silent whimper before he managed to breathe, "Keith~"

"Say it." Keith had to get Shiro to acknowledge himself, even if it meant withholding Shiro's release until he did. "Come on, baby—I need to hear you say it. I need to know you know who you are."

Arching again, Shiro opened his eyes, his gaze damp. "Please." He swallowed, his breath spilling out ragged over his parted lips as he moistened them. "Please, Keith~"

As he squirmed helplessly, gazing into Keith's eyes, a litany of _please, oh please~_ fell from him, punctuated by fragmented breaths. He was so beautiful in his desperation, Keith almost broke—

But he made himself hold. "Please, Shiro, I need you to say it."

"The Black Paladin." Shiro was raw in that moment, laid bare inside and out in the gaze. "I'm the Black Paladin."

"Yes~" Keith reached for him, cradling Shiro's balls, stroking up his cock with both hands as he guided Shiro to release, as Shiro finally spilled out of himself.

Keith lay down next to him, stroking his hair, his face.

They were quiet for long moments.

Finally Shiro roused himself, shifting to face Keith. "That was unfair."

Even though there was a grin on Shiro's face, Keith felt guilty. But he also thought he'd do the same thing again. "I know you want me to know how much you believe in me," he said solemnly.

"Yeah—"

Keith held up a hand so Shiro would let him finish. "And I do. But Shiro—I need you to know how much I believe in you, too."

They held the gaze wordlessly, until Shiro said, "Thank you, Keith."

 

"What are we doing?" Shiro asked a few days ago, after they got back from a mission that had gone sideways, moments after Keith had said, "Please, baby," and Shiro had given him his come as asked. Trailing his fingers through a spurt that had made it as high as his chest, Shiro looked over at Keith, then turned onto his side to face him fully.

Keith rolled to mirror him. "We're helping each other out. Helping each other find moments of peace in the middle of war."

Shiro nodded thoughtfully. "Friends helping each other out." He said it like it wasn't exactly a question, but like he was trying on to see how it fit.

"You're my best friend, Shiro."

There was no edge at all to Shiro's smile now, just a fullness; full of sweetness and light. "Yeah?"

Infected by Shiro's smile, Keith smiled too. "Yeah."

He didn't tell Shiro the rest of it: that he also thought of Shiro as something else—his important person, his _one_. He didn't say it because he didn't know if it made sense, but that was how he felt. Not like he was in love, whatever that was, but like he wanted to know Shiro forever, wanted Shiro in his life and wanted to be in Shiro's, in this lifetime and beyond.

Keith didn't know the words for any of that, so he just smiled for Shiro's smile, and smiled more as Shiro smiled for his.

***

Smiling for Shiro's smile: that's what Keith has been doing throughout everything. It's what he's doing right now as they turn into the corridor where his quarters are. A few more steps and they're in Keith's room, and Keith is asking Shiro to put his arms up, he's pulling Shiro's shirt off, looking up into Shiro's face, undoing Shiro's belt, undoing his fly, getting ready to undo Shiro himself.

When he has Shiro stripped bare and they're lying together on the bed, Keith says, "You were amazing today."

And there it is, the flutter of a smile everywhere—not just on Shiro's mouth, not just in his eyes, not even just across his face: his breath flutters as he inhales Keith's words and lets them soak into his bloodstream until his pulse is fluttering; Keith feels the flutter of Shiro's pulse where his fingertips are resting against Shiro's throat.

"Can I watch you today?"

"Yeah." Shiro smiles, the edge still there at the corner of the curve, his breathing hard and his cock harder from the way Keith was focusing on him against the corridor wall.

They haven't done this in a while, Keith watching as Shiro jacks off. Keith loves touching him, but he just wants to look at Shiro right now; he wants to see the transition, the exact moment when Shiro can smile again without the edge.

As Shiro slicks up and starts stroking his cock, Keith moves closer to watch; close enough to touch, but only watching. "You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, his tone matching the quiet intensity of his gaze. Shiro usually doesn't respond as well to praise about his looks as he does to praise about his accomplishments, so Keith adds, "Your moves with Black were awe-inspiring out there today."

A low moan accompanies the buck of Shiro's hips, but there's frustration mixed in with the gratification he usually expresses from praise. He shifts, twisting to press his face into the crook of Keith's neck, damp breath painted in desperate sighs against Keith's skin.

Something is wrong and Keith can't figure out what it is. His own adrenaline is surging after the battle; if it's like this for him, he can only imagine what it's like for Shiro. It must be one of those times when Shiro just needs a little extra more. "Here, let me." He reaches for Shiro's cock, taking over when Shiro yields to him.

But it's still not enough. Shiro reaches between his own legs, rolling his hips as his prosthetic fingers push inside him.

He fucks himself on his fingers for long minutes while Keith jacks him off—but even that is not enough.

"Hey, Shiro," Keith says thoughtfully, stroking Shiro's hair with one hand, stroking his cock with the other, wishing he had more hands to stroke Shiro everywhere he needs right now. "What did you used to think about to get yourself to calm down, when you were with." He can't bring himself to say _Galra_ , not here in this moment, and tries to figure out how to phrase it. "After Kerberos," he says, remembering how Shiro said it once, "and before you came back."

Shiro takes a breath and moistens his lips, but turns his head away. The hand fingering himself slows, goes still.

Keith slows too, coming to a stop with his fingers loosely curled around Shiro's cock, which hasn't softened, still hard and flushed and no doubt aching. Keith's heart aches too. "No judgment," Keith says softly. The only sound is the heavy pattern of Shiro's inhaling and exhaling, overfull with the dull edge that has slipped from his smile into his breath.

He's not saying anything, not looking at Keith; not looking at him like he can't look at Keith right now— _Oh._.. "Did you think about me?"

Shiro's shoulders drop and that's the answer, and Keith isn't going to push; he won't make Shiro say something he doesn't feel comfortable with, although Keith himself is fine with it. He's thinking how to convey that to Shiro without making him feel worse, but then Shiro says, quietly, "Yes. But not the way you think."

He straightens up and Keith lets go, but Shiro doesn't quite turn to face him. "I thought of you, safe back on Earth, waiting for me to come home. Believing that I would." He looks over his shoulder now and their eyes meet, but Shiro doesn't hold the gaze. "It helped me find a way to get through it all, thinking that there was someone out there who believed I could make it through. Someone who." He falters, then draws a deep breath, draws himself up. "Someone who wasn't giving up on me."

"Shiro..." Inexpressible emotion unfolds inside Keith, expanding until it fills him. "I will never give up on you. I did and I do and I always will believe in you."

He dares to touch Shiro's face, something he's never done before. Shiro closes his eyes and leans into the touch. He's not smiling but the edge is still there, so Keith reaches down to take Shiro's hand and curl it around his cock. "Come on, baby," he murmurs. He knows Shiro is willing to forego his own state of bliss, but he's unlikely to deny Keith's: "Can you give this to me? I know you can do it; you can do anything you put your mind to. You're amazing, Shiro. You really are."

His own words make him squirm, not in a good way, not the way he wants Shiro to. He's at a loss for words; there aren't words to truly describe Shiro. But Keith tries anyhow. He gets closer and whispers, as if telling a secret to Shiro's skin, "You're the best person I know, inside and out."

He keeps going as Shiro keeps stroking himself, murmuring encouragement until Shiro comes, and comes, and comes again; he keeps going as Shiro unravels inside himself, as he falls apart more and more, until he's beyond falling, beyond coming.

Eyes slit open, breathing slow and even, Shiro takes a deep breath and then a deeper one. "I'm going to pass out soon."

Keith knows he's actually asking if he can stay there or if he should go back to his own room. He slides down, settling himself with Shiro. "You're okay here. Let yourself go; I've got you."

Shiro lets his lashes sweep all the way down, his smile as deep and smooth as his steady breathing.

Keith loves him. He just. He loves Shiro so much.

He's not in love Shiro; or maybe he is. He doesn't know. He just knows that he _loves_ Shiro.

He hasn't told Shiro that yet. Well, it came out during the Blade of Marmora trial, so he knew himself then—but it wasn't Shiro he said it to. He will someday. Maybe even someday soon. For now, it's enough to be the one who knows how to transmute the edge in Shiro's smile into the peace in his breathing, leaving him open and bright and free.


End file.
